Disclaimers: Property of Marvel Studios.
Summary: Jesse finds out what Brennan did during his pre-MutantX his days.
Warnings: Frantically typed out early this morning before work. Pardon any typos.
Notes: My muse needed an outlet and Brennan was the next best thing. :-O Sorry, baaaaad pun. Someone mentioned on one of the lists about Victor being in "The Chippendales Murder". Here's a fic just for fun. Enjoy. :-)
*****
Brennan stared at Jesse with a critical raised eyebrow of disbelief. "Don't quit your day job," he said.
Jesse glared. "Always a critic somewhere," he said. "Well, Mr. Voice of Experience, when was the last time you HAD a real day job?"
"I've done far more real jobs than you'll ever find out about, my friend. The streets are not a kind place to grow up, Jesse. I've had to do things I'm not proud of. Things that would scare you straight. No pun intended."
Jesse had ran into the "tough streets" stone wall act too many times already. The man was willing to share his bed, but not willing to share any details about his past. Jesse hungered for something concrete about his partner. Brennan could be a serial killer; a rapist; or even worse, a Phil Collins fan for all he knew. Instead of dropping the subject as he usually did when he hit that stone wall, he pressed harder. The need to dig a little deeper into Brennan's shady, undisclosed past was too strong to pass up.
"Real jobs such as...," Jesse said waving his hands in an exaggerated gesture. Brennan's gaze drifted back and forth between Jesse's pained expression and the polished floor of the Sanctuary. "Something..."
"You do not want to hear it," Brennan said, his voice deep and serious.
"Cause you're gonna go nuts when you hear it."
Jesse could feel his partner trying to excuse himself out of revealing anything. He could feel his own anger building. His jaw clenched several times before he could speak. A single word emerged. "Anything..."
"Ouch," Brennan said. "Watch those eye daggers, buddy." He leaned backward out of their imaginary reach.
Jesse roared and stormed towards him - and through him. An unnatural chill swept through Brennan's torso and crotch. He felt the tightening tingle of his balls scrambling for refuge between his legs. The last remnants of a draft caused by Jesse's wake touched his face for an instant and was gone. Jesse's scent faded. He turned on the heel of one boot and watched the man who was more than his friend walking away.
"Jess," he said. "It was bad."
Jesse stopped and slowly faced Brennan.
Brennan continued. "The mob was a nightmare. But the money. The money was good. I needed the money. And the ladies..." Crossed arms and a pursed, irate expression greeted Brennan's mention of the "L" word. "Oh, right. I forgot. Me and the ladies are the last thing you want to hear about. Anyway, that's pretty much it."
Jesse stared at some place behind his partner for a moment. "You were with the mob." He refocused on Brennan's face. "Somehow I always thought it would be something more than that. Something... worse."
"Mob," Brennan said, his face full of surprise. "Who said anything about the mob? I meant a mob of people."
"You've lost me," Jesse said. "So what exactly was it that you did do?"
A thin smile on Brennan's lips grew into a wily grin. "Stripper," he said. "'Lightning Rod' was my stage name. Kind of obvious. What with all the special effects and everything during the act."
Jesse went nuts. His mind flooded with dozens of little gyrating Brennans, in every fantasy outfit imaginable, all of them stripping down to skin-tight red speedos that left no bulges to the imagination.
Brennan chuckled. "I get that expression a lot."
Jesse knew one thing: Brennan was going to put on a private performance for him tonight. If not, he could always program the Sanctuary computer to play strip club music for Brennan at the most inappropriate times. Either way, he was going to get that lap dance.
Created on ... April 29, 2003